


Be Mine

by howdywrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Blood and Injury, Cait wants to be god lol, Drabble, F/F, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Romance, Light Bondage, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Lesbian Character, Please do not read if any of the tags bother you!, Possessive Sex, Saloon, Valentine's Day, Wedding Night, Western, light Violence, slightly unhealthy relationship, villains have fun too, yeehaw fellow gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdywrites/pseuds/howdywrites
Summary: The proud Cait Caldwell celebrates her wedding to her wife Isabelle by showing her how much she loves her.
Relationships: Cait Caldwell/Isabelle Caldwell, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 6





	Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in celebration of Valentine's day! My friends and readers on Tumblr voted for these two!

It was a perfect day for a godless wedding. The clouds overhead wept and the red dirt of Clemmon’s turned to sticky mud in the wake of Cait Caldwell and her new bride. In a secluded grove, she shed her rough persona in favor of uttering her unwavering love to the woman she’d only met some six months ago.

Isabelle wore her best pink chiffon and cream lace dress. It would’ve been a perfect Sunday dress for the pulpit if it weren’t for the alterations Cait ordered for it back in the last town they stopped in. She requested a lower neckline just so she could get a peek at the treasure her fiancee had. It needed pearl buttons and matching jewelry. A pretty penny to pay for the joy and loyalty her Isabelle brought to her life. After her posse’s last job in Halter County, money was the last thing she hurt for. And after their quaint ceremony in the woods, she had the one thing traveling preachers from around the States said she could never have.

A wife. The pride she would wear on her arm and her ring finger without a care for what anyone else had to think. Not even god.

-

The Sagebrush Parlor bustled with mining men and working women. Though not the fanciest establishment in the west, they eagerly welcomed in Cait and her posse with the prospect of extra coins to go around. If the house mother or the barkeep thought anything of the peculiar white linen suit she wore or the pretty Isabelle Caldwell in her lap, they kept their lips shut. She had already thrown a knife at a toothless drunkard for calling her a derogatory name. It remained wedged in the wood of the barkeep’s liquor cabinet.

Night fell on Clemmon’s as slow as the storm clouds that lingered over the plain town. While outside the blustering wind rattled the floorboards and rain battered the foggy windows, inside the Parlor was filled with nothing but warmth and boisterous laughter. 

Isabelle bounced in her lap, clapping her hands with a giddy squeal as the dice Cait rolled gave her a winning number. Yet again, luck was on her side that night. The arm wrapped around her new wife tightened and she leaned in real close to let her lips brush against her ear. “How much did I win, baby? Are you keeping track?” she purred, reveling in the way she squirmed and giggled.

“Twenty… five!” She held the coins in her delicate fingers, pulling them over to their side of the worn wooden table. Evan groaned on the other end, slamming his fists down until the drinks piled around them trembled. The rest of her men pointed and laughed at him like schoolboys.

“I’m dry, goddamnit!”

“Maybe you should’a spent that money on something worthwhile. But I appreciate the wedding gift, even if I had to win it from you.” Cait uttered a noise halfway between a laugh and a cackle at his misfortune.

“Bullshit.” Evan snatched up his lukewarm beer and turned his back on the rest of them. He tried to reach for the working girl in sage green, but seeing as he had just lost his last nickel, she sashayed away to find someone worth her while. His fuming didn’t bother Cait one bit. Many times in their travels together, Evan had tried to challenge her or find ways to assert himself. And every time she left him with his tail between his legs like a kicked dog.

“Why don’t you take some of this-” Cait pushed a couple of dollar pieces to Isabelle, nuzzling her jaw. “And get us something to drink. Whatever you want, darling.” Isabelle thanked her and leaned in to steal a kiss before sliding out of her lap. Her pink skirts danced about her legs, her brand new leather shoes clicking against the wooden floor. She flounced away with a spring in her step.

A hand touched Cait’s shoulder and she tensed until Mercy addressed her with a quiet ‘boss’. She leaned back in her chair, draping her now empty arm across the back of it. The man whom she trusted the most, who had married them earlier that day, smiled at her with a gleam in his eye. “I figured you and Mrs. Caldwell wouldn’t want to be distrubed tonight. A tent hardly makes for a romantic honeymoon.” He reached into the pocket of his tweed vest and pulled out a brass key with a purple velvet ribbon. “I got you the best room in the house, on me.”

Pride swelled in Cait’s chest and she took the key between two fingers and inspected it. “You’re a good man, Mercy. Your generosity will be remembered.” She tucked the key into the breast pocket of her still pristine white linen suit coat. 

Any remnants of tipsy relaxation and joy she had came crashing down within a second of catching the look on Isabelle’s face as she shuffled around drunk men to get to their table. Her downcast eyes remained planted on the wood floors, wet with tears. Her cheeks had drained of color and her dark brows knit together until a line formed between them. She carried a pint of booze in her hands, gripping the glass as if her life depended on it. Though she’d only known the woman for such a short time, she admired the way she wore her emotions on her sleeve. Especially after she got her out of that wretched position at the saloon where they met. 

Clenching her jaw, Cait welcomed her back into an arm, holding her there and dropping her voice low. Her free hand steadied the glass Isabelle held. “You’re troubled. What happened?” Those doll eyes looked her in the eye. Her bottom lip stuck out. She was the only person she treated this gently. Especially when she needed to coax an answer out of her.

“He touched me.” Isabelle admitted, sliding her eyes towards a group of rowdy men sitting in the center of the room. Impossible to hear what they were saying, Cait spied a few of them jutting thumbs over at them and lips flapping. Anger flared within her. A raging heat that could freeze over hell. Isabelle took hold of her coat and tugged. “I… I think it was an accident! I think he took me as one of the Sagebrush girls-”

“I’ll fucking kill him. Which one was it?” One of her hands enveloped Isabelle’s wrist and pulled her along. The glass in her hand fell with a shatter, quieting only a handful of tables in the large Parlor. Cait bounded towards the table in question, standing over a balding man with hands still covered in a thick layer of coal dust. He looked up at her, a bushy brow raised.

“Him-” Isabelle hid behind her and pointed a man just beside him. A younger one, who would have easily been mistaken for a boy if it weren’t for the patchy mustache growing in along his jaw. He held his smirk, still chuckling at whatever joke he’d just told to his buddies. The noise in the room died down to low chatter, eyes following the encounter.

“Can I help you?” His eyes danced between the two women.

“My wife says you touched her. That right?” Cait’s voice became a low growl in the back of her throat, voice raspy. The young man’s face twisted in amusement. He snorted.

“Wife? With her all dressed up like that, I thought she looked more like a whor-”

Before he could finish, Cait dashed for a fork sitting beside the bald man’s steak dinner. In one swift motion, as quick as she could manage, she brought the utensil down with a heavy thrust. It emitted a dull thunk as it pierced through the young man’s hand and stapled him to the wood of the table. He let out a bellow, jumping out of his seat and attempting to nurse his fresh wound. Ruby blood created ribbons around the silver fork. His yowling made his voice crack and he quickly collapsed, begging for one of the other miners to help him.

Though one man attempted to pull the fork out, none of the others seemed to want to stand up against the woman in white. Cait couldn’t help the sickly grin that curled at her lip at the sight of it all. The way the man collapsed to his knees and cried for god or his mother to help him. She only got pulled back down to earth by two hands that tugged on her own.

“Caitie-” Isabelle’s voice squeaked. Swallowing thickly, Cait turned and wrapped an arm around her, guiding her towards the stairs and ultimately the bedrooms that made up the second floor.

“You don’t gotta worry about him now, sweet. Let’s get back to celebrating.”

-

Despite how terrible of a shot Mercy was with a rifle, he certainly had good taste. The room he secured for them had an en suite powder room and the nicest bathing tub Cait had ever seen in a saloon. The bed linens were purple and the bedframe a grand cherry wood color. The house mother had even taken the time to place extra candles and lamp oil on the dresser for them, assuming they would be up late into the night.

A dull haze of music and chatter crept in through the thin wooden floors. Cait sat on a low stool, her legs on either side of the tin tub and her hands slippery with rose scented soap. Isabelle sat in the steaming water, curled up so tight she barely took up one half of its length. In the privacy of their own suite, Cait took her time smoothing a rag over her tense shoulders.

“I would’ve done worse to him, you know. I hate men who think they can touch any woman they please.” Cait pushed her white sleeve up her forearm where it had fallen. She trailed the rag down Isabelle’s arm, dipping into the water to make sure she reached every inch of her skin. A mirror stood in front of them, as well as a couple of oil lamps so she could see what she was doing. Cait peered at her wife in the reflection, noticing how pale she remained.

“I hated it.” Isabelle’s weak voice wavered. Her eyes lifted from the water’s surface to meet hers in the mirror. “It was just a pat on the rear, but I haven’t been touched like that by a man like that in so long I…” Her words trailed off, lips trembling as she tried to form the words plaguing her mind.

“Shh…” Cait abandoned the rag, letting it fall limp over the edge of the tub. Her hands slid over slender shoulders, giving them a tender squeeze. She leaned in, kissing the top of Isabelle’s dark head. Eyes still locked on her image in the mirror. “That’s why I took you away from there. From that life.” The smallest of smiles appeared on her wife’s lips. Her eyes flickered back down to the finger that traced her collarbone.

“It wasn’t just because I’m pretty?” Isabelle teased softly, her legs uncurling and stretching out to the other end of the tub. 

Cait chuckled. Her lips found the space where her slender jaw met her ear. She placed a chaste kiss there. Dark hair tickled her nose. “That’s a bonus. You were miserable there. You deserved better. And now you’re mine.” Her fingers found the warm water, pausing just above Isabell’s breasts that remained below its surface. The woman shuddered under her touch. “You do know that, hm?” 

“Yes. I do.” Isabelle’s wet hand slid over hers, holding it. Color began to bloom in her cheeks as they eyed each other in their reflection. Cait could still hear an ounce of uncertainty in her silky voice.

“I mean it. Everything. All of you.” She squeezed her hand, letting her arm dip below the water to graze past her breast. A soft gasp caught in Isabelle’s throat. “I ain’t ever gonna let someone touch you like that. Touch what’s mine.” Cait cupped her impossibly smooth breast, thumbing over the soft brown bud tightening at the end. Another gasp and this time a full sigh of pleasure. Dark lashes fluttered and Isabelle laid her head back against her shoulder.

“Cait.” Her name dripped melted butter on cinnamon toast. Pleading for her for more. Begging for the evidence of her possession over her.

“Let me show you, baby.” The hand at her breast pressed into her flesh with a rough squeeze until it dimpled between her fingers. Cait kept her wife’s head from going slack, using a hand to firmly grasp her jaw to keep her looking straight at the mirror. “Look at yourself. I want you to see what me touching you does.” She smirked against her jaw, moving down until she was on her knees behind the back of the tub and her lips met her neck. 

Isabelle’s heartbeat fluttered against Cait’s lips. God how she wished she could sink her teeth and be a mosquito drunk on her honey blood. Rough fingertips slid down the length of her abdomen. A soft mewl joined the agitated waters as her wife rolled into her touch. She watched her through her lashes as she pinched the sensitive skin of her neck between her front teeth and sucked. Isabelle’s cry vibrated in her throat.

“So needy.” Cait hummed against the crook of her shoulder after leaving a nice pink mark below her jaw. “See how your body is just begging for me to touch you?” Isabelle nodded between pants, one of her hands reaching back to caress the side of Cait’s face. The fingers tracing her stomach reached the thick dark hairs between her thighs, dipping further down until they brushed against that sweet spot just below.

Water sloshed, bit spilling out as Isabelle jerked and groaned. Her head fell back against Cait’s shoulders, face twisted as if it pained her to be teased. Cait retracted her fingers with a dark chuckle.

“Get outta that tub and let me see you.”

All at once, Cait retreated from the side of the tub and worked her way back until her backside found the edge of the dresser while her wife rose from the tub. She worked her nicest pair of boots off without looking. Her eyes were far too busy greedily taking in the sight before her. Generous curves dripping with sudsy water. Dimpled skin on thick thighs and dark curls that fell about her shoulders and the curve of her back with the removal of a single comb. Isabelle matched her gaze in the mirror, her brilliant smile returning. Just as shy as the first time they met.

Cait threw her shoes to the side with reckless abandon. Uncaring if they scuffed the floors or nicked the porcelain flower vase standing beside a window. Hell, they could’ve crashed through the glass and into the mud in the alley beside the Parlor for all she cared.

“You got blood on you.” Isabelle pouted, making her way over with a towel wrapped around herself. She made her way up to Cait, touching the collar of her shirt and one of the lapels. Lo and behold a few small blood droplets had splattered her prized suit.

“If the asshole’s still down there, I’ll make him pay for that too.” Cait smirked. Her hands unfurled the towel impatiently, patting her wife down and using it to pull her in closer. Isabelle fit perfectly between her legs, reminding her of their first time. “God damnit, woman-” she laughed lowly. “You’re fucking pretty.” The towel fell at their feet, never to be thought of again for as long as they occupied their slice of heaven. 

Cait kissed Isabelle with the passion of a drowning man looking for breath. Her lips pressed and guided, memorizing her taste. She still had the taste of the sweet wine they shared at their ‘reception’ downstairs. Her hands held fast to her face, keeping her there so she could explore. Though her eyes were closed so she could feel every sensation, she smiled as delicate fingers worked the ties and buttons of her linen. Isabelle sighed against her mouth, the skin of her cheeks fever hot against Cait’s hands.

Those fingers found her bare skin quick. She only released her wife’s face momentarily to let her pull the suit coat off of her. A few buttons of her dress shirt beneath it had already been unbuttoned, exposing her sternum and collarbone. The ends were untucked hours before when they first arrived at the Parlor.

Isabelle gasped as their kiss broke. Cait found herself having to catch her breath. Her lips tingled at the memory of her wife’s lips. Smiling at her, the woman she adored began to work the belt of her trousers. “Do you want me to do that thing you liked last time?” 

“No, not right now.” As much as Cait loved sitting on her face, she wanted to continue forward with her goal. She studied Isabelle’s face. All of its soft lines and smooth features. “Do you trust me?” It wasn’t a surprise that she nodded, her eyes twinkling at the prospect of what Cait had in mind. A devilish smile curled on her lip. This would be fun. “My my, what a good girl.”

Taking the lead, Cait pushed the two of them away from the dresser and guided Isabelle with her hands exploring the soft curve of her waist. She lifted her onto the tall bed and her giggles lit up her world. The bed frame creaked under their weight as Cait scrambled to join her. In an instant, she had her pinned beneath her, letting her undo the rest of the buttons on her shirt and trousers. Their mouths fought to prove their affections for one another

Free of her dress shirt, Cait hummed against her wife’s lips and pulled away to hold herself over her on both hands. Just to admire the flush of her cheeks and the way she looked surrounded by royal purple. “Gimme your hands-” Pride tickled her as Isabelle offered her hands to her. Using the sleeves of her shirt, Cait looped them around her wrists - just tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to wiggle free, but not quite tight enough to harm her. She crawled over her, using the other end of the shirt to weave through the slats of the bed frame.

“This is new,” Isabelle mused, her head tilted back to watch her handiwork. Cait’s gaze dipped down to the pink splotch on her neck. The mark she left to tell anyone who looked at her wife that she was hers.

“I don’t want you touching yourself.-” She gave the shirt a good yank. A seam tore somewhere, though the blood had already done its number on her wedding attire. A tear would only add character. “Or touching me.” Cait took her time pulling off the rest of her outfit and throwing it aside, staring down at Isabelle who watched her with eyes so filled with adoration that in that moment she thought she could feel what gods did when they were worshiped. Her hands roamed the space of silky skin along her wife’s abdomen. “I want you to lie here and let me explore every… inch…”

Isabelle whimpered, rosy lips parted. Almost good enough to bite. But Cait was going to take her time with her and enjoy her wife’s body to its fullest.

Warm skin slid against warm skin. Their bodies pressed together as a perfect pair. A low noise escaped Cait as dipped her head down to bite down on Isabelle's shoulder. The noise she earned sent a shiver down her spine. Her toes curled. The headboard creaked as the hands bound to them struggled against them.

"Relax, sweet." Cait pressed her fingers into the supple flesh of her chest. Her lips fluttered against the crescent shape mark she left along her collarbone. "Let me show you who you belong to."

Her tongue followed the length of Isabelle's shoulder until it met her neck. The body beneath her shuddered and arched, unable to go anywhere. She tasted sweet and clean. Absolutely delectable and all hers. Cait sank her teeth into her neck again, this time hard enough that there would be a mark there for at least the next few days. Shrill cries drowned out her messy suckling and she pulled away only after she got her fill of Isabelle's noises. 

Cait admired her work. The spot was larger than the first, a screaming cherry red color. If she were any other woman, she probably would have worried about breaking skin. But she wasn't like other women. She likened herself to a creature that sought its frail prey and wrapped itself around it to suffocate it with its possession. 

Teeth and hands continued their barrage of biting and exploration. Cait wouldn't be satisfied until her marks dotted Isabelle's delicate skin. All the while her mewls and sighs grew louder. Legs on either side of her hips squeezed, begging for attention further south.

"Patience is a virtue, darling. I'm not done with you yet." Isabelle's fevered eyes watched her, her dark brows coming together. Cait smiled wickedly against her breast before taking the puckered bud into her mouth. She wet it with her tongue and had to keep her hands planted on her wife's hips to keep her from squirming too much.

Downstairs, the rowdy music picked up. Even then, Isabelle couldn't be drowned out. Her whines became a siren's call to Cait.

Obliging her suffering moans, she abandoned her breasts in favor of trailing a line of kisses down her stomach. Isabelle's abdomen caved in with each shaving breath and her eyes finally screwed shut. Probably in relief that she was about to have what she craved.

Cait laid herself out before her wife, cuddled between her legs and face to face with the familiar shape of her sex. 

"You're practically dripping," she chuckled, pressing a kiss against the pouch of skin above Isabelle's mound. 

"You tease me so… you're cruel."

"I'm just." Cait quirked a brow, pushing her inner thighs apart so she could get the view most men would pay hundreds to see. "I'll make it worth your while. I never go back on a promise."

Isabelle was forced to wait another long minute. Cait nipped and traveled the curve of her thighs with her tongue. Her scent filled her senses. She could get drunk off it alone. Even as her wife pleaded with her with quivering words, she didn't give in so easily. 

At long last, Cait trailed her thumb along her slick, flushed fold, laughing as she bucked her hips. Leaning in, she took her first taste with a deep kiss to her sweet spot. Isabelle's shrill moan rattled the heavens. The room around them began to melt away until it was just the two of them floating on a purple cloud.

Cait drank up her taste and spelled her own name with the tip of her tongue. Each letter had her wife pulling against the bed frame. Warm thighs pressed around her head, encouraging her - begging her- to give her more. She closed her eyes and greedily devoured her.

Nails left red trails against her skin. Lips expertly navigated Isabelle's needy center. Cait played her like a fiddle, knowing exactly where and how to flick her tongue to get the best wails out of her. She craved this kind of control. Her eyes flashed open to watch her wife's face contort with pleasure. 

Higher and higher she sent Isabelle soaring. High enough to be burned by the hot Texas sun. Cait carried her further until her body went stiff and her name died on her lips. Isabelle reached her peak and the pride of knowing she was the reason for it tickled her belly. 

" _Mine._ " Cait panted against her thigh, finally catching her breath as her wife rode her waves of pleasure. "All mine."


End file.
